


Rock-a-bye Baby

by risquetendencies



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, NSFW, books used as weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 13:07:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1267576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/pseuds/risquetendencies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kotarou is a sleepy drunk... but you can't keep a good man down for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock-a-bye Baby

Contrary to how he'd felt about the substance on his own twentieth birthday, Miyaji was certain that alcohol was god's gift to mankind. Or even just him. Right now, he was happy to cast aside the memories of emptying the contents of his stomach into a toilet all night, or any ridiculous things he might have done before the nausea overtook him. A year older and a year wiser, he was finally beginning to appreciate alcohol and its myriad of effects on the human body. There were more types of drunkards than colors in the rainbow and one never knew what kind someone would be until they tried.

He'd just happened to hit the jackpot this time.

Reluctantly he had made plans to drag Hayama around to a few bars for the kid's birthday. The entire week before, his personal demon had taken the opportunity every day to speculate on what "awesome things senpai has planned for me" and even for a hardened soul like him, the guilt had accumulated. At the risk of being a complete asshole, he'd eventually decided to do something for Kotarou, just this once.

Karma sure was kind to him when he took the time to put the effort in, because as soon they were a few drinks in in the first bar, something beautiful had occurred. Where he'd been internally dreading the reveal of what type the orange-haired brat was, it soon became apparent, thanks to his low beginner's tolerance.

Kotarou was a sleepy drunk.

Miyaji had never been so giddy to shell out money for a taxi home in his life. Call him a cranky old man, but he was content to end the night early and abscond to their apartment. He'd had to practically carry Hayama to bed, but that was a small price to pay for total tranquility for one evening in his miserable existence.

He was able to slip into something more comfortable and actually lay down and read without interruption. It was heaven. The only soundtrack was the occasional coming and going of neighbors through the complex's courtyard, and a soft symphony of snores from the heavily-sedated birthday boy conked out beside him.

The blond smirked down at the pages of his chosen novel. The suppression of his lover's spastic energy was a mere coincidence, but he felt a little devious all the same. Hayama was unlikely to catch onto this subtle of a scheme, so he could use it to his advantage in the future. Whenever he desired a quiet night to himself, he could sit the kid down with a bottle and let him do his own self in. Easy.

Hazel eyes flitted briefly to where the brat's wispy locks splayed upon the mattress. Hayama had somehow managed to slip down the bed in his slumbering to where his head ran level with Miyaji's hip. His hands butted against the pillow, fingers sometimes twitching to grab at the fluffy mound as if in reaction to whatever dream was starring in his mind's theater. Other than that, he caused no other disturbances.

The elder was feeling rather smug until a heavy burden bore down on his thigh, causing him to jerk his head back up in anger. The mass rolled, completing one more rotation until Hayama had settled face down in between Miyaji's legs. Needless to say, he was not pleased.

"I don't know why you did that, but move back to where you were or I'm punting you to the ground," the blond threatened coolly, placing his palm flat against Hayama's crown and nudging violently. Accommodating 68kg of dead weight smack dab between his thighs both annoyed and unnerved him, not that he'd ever deign to admit to the second emotion. It reminded him far too much of every other time he'd been jumped in the past, excepting the occasions where he'd been roped into more creative positions - not that those were any better.

"Mm-smell... good," came the somnolent reply, the younger refusing to lift his face to de-muffle his words. His cheek rubbed fondly along the innermost patch of Miyaji's thigh, stirring the thinly-clothed flesh and contributing to the elevation of his blood pressure.

"Oi, stop poking your face in my crotch. Get out of there!" He thwapped Kotarou on the head with the book for good measure.

"It's my birthday, let me play~" That came across loud and clear, a hint of the other's fang peeking out as he revealed himself to scrutiny.

"Don't. Care." He cracked the book over the idiot's skull once more.

"So Senpai wants it rough tonight, huh?"

"That is not even _close_ to what I'm saying."

"No worries, I wanna do it gentle."

Hayama nuzzled his nose dead center again, and Miyaji bit down on his lower lip, silencing the pleased noise that had tried to escape. Increasingly, his grip on his reading material loosened as the brat worked at him, and before long, holding it in wasn't an option. The sensation of his pajama bottoms on his naked length combined with Kotarou's hot breath soaking through left him stiff and powerless to escape.

Nimble fingers pulled him out and shucked his pants down to the knees, his junior scooting in for closer access. Without delay, he swallowed Miyaji down to the root, torturing a loud moan from the elder's throat. Trapped within the cramped space of Kotarou's throat, he was engulfed with a sinful warmth and silken wetness that threatened to send him over the edge in no time flat.

Irritation sowed alongside his ecstasy when Hayama's messy sucking proved light and inelegant. He hated to say it, but this was probably the tradeoff for letting the brat drink himself into a less obnoxious state tonight. When sober, he was quite a deal more skilled with his tongue than the current and more coordinated in using his hand to further help Miyaji along.

"Too slow." He grasped the top of Kotarou's head and lightly shoved the brat away. Seeking relief, he took himself in hand and vigorously began pumping, voice trilling out in approval of the heightened tempo.

A tongue dragged over the top of his balls, sending a chill down his spine at the dual sensations. Still Miyaji kept stroking away, feeling the familiar strains of his orgasm welling up within him and a growing tension in his very center. The tepid licks Kotarou made at his sac were more frustrating than anything, just piquant enough to disrupt his rhythm but not enough to help him along.

"Suck on them," he finally gritted through his teeth, all semblance of his usual coldness dissolved.

Blissfully, the order was swiftly obeyed, Kotarou slipping one of his swollen globes between his lips and deftly caressing the second. As he passed it around within his mouth, his tongue licked sinful circles around Miyaji's flesh, and the elder began to shiver with the onset of his peak.

His voice launched a fierce exclamation, and he spurted in several powerful cascades, coating his knuckles and dripping down to pool at the boundary where Hayama's lips were sealed over his sac. The younger propped his head to worry at the trail of fluid, laving off the brunt with his tongue. Kiyoshi lay back weakly against the pillow, feeling inordinately drained.

"Mine's amazingly hard now too, Senpai; what should I do?"

Miyaji deliberately feigned sleep, taking a gamble that Hayama's inebriated state might have watered down the boy's cunning enough to believe the lie. His eyes lay gently closed, and he forced his breathing to regulate to a slow, natural cadence, slipping in the occasional snore-like noise for the hell of it. Focused as he was on his performance, he soon lost track of Kotarou's maneuvering. Which probably wasn't his most brilliant choice of the night.

The first clue was a nagging pressure low down on his frame, a pressure that neither increased or diminished, but was constant like a repetitive motion. The second was another verbal cue from the instigator in question.

"It won't go in," Kotarou whined, sounding incredibly pitiful even for a guy with his cock in hand.

"For the love of g-" Miyaji rose up, abrupt and agitated, and subsequently slapped his palm against his forehead. Staring the course of their entwined bodies, it was obvious why the brat was failing to do anything. He'd apparently been too distracted by the aftereffects of his recent climax to notice, too, which made him equally as stupid. This was why he liked to go to bed _early_. Miyaji was not a night owl; his brain shut down at hours such as these.

Given that the idiot was attempting to penetrate somewhere more in the region of his belly button, it was no wonder it didn't work.

"Lay your stupid ass down and shut up," he instructed tersely, casting his best menacing aura.

Kotarou flopped back on command, head pointed toward the foot of their bed. The younger looked obscene, erection long and filled with blood, sticking out the waistband of his shorts as if he couldn't be bothered to undress properly. All Kiyoshi knew was that he couldn't be bothered to drag this out much longer. This was far too much excitement in one night for his standards.

Grumbling to himself, he dug out some lube from the bedside and set to work preparing them both, fisting Hayama's cock with slick motions until he deemed it ready. The entire process, the brat moaned pathetically, desperation painted plainly across his sharp features. He arched up in an simple-minded daze, wrongly convinced that the blond had no plans of treating his own renewed hard-on.

"Don't even think about it," Miyaji hissed, choking him sternly at the base of his cock to prevent him from shooting off, "We're not done. If I have to go to the trouble, you can bet I'm getting something out of this, brat."

"Miyaji-san, please," he implored, drawing out the final syllable, "I really need to cum!"

"Patience, Kotarou!" the elder snapped, employing the other's first name unconsciously.

Miyaji artlessly kicked his pajamas all the way off, letting them adorn the floor beside the bed. He then made a show of straddling Kotarou's lap, arms braced firmly against the prodigy's midsection to hold him down. The chance that he'd be overthrown was high, and the blond had every intention of ruling this encounter, thus, he needed to make sure his personal demon was well restrained.

Twinned hazels met with jade, Miyaji taking the measure of Kotarou's features before initiating further.

His eyes were blown wide with need, and Kiyoshi could feel his muscles bouncing slightly underneath each palm with each labored breath his boyfriend took. It was as if there was nothing else in the world Kotarou desired more, and as naive as he might be for getting off on that sentiment, Miyaji did secretly enjoy it. His goodwill unexpectedly flourished, lending him to seat himself around the younger's throbbing girth in one daring drop.

He took a moment to acclimate to the burn of being stuffed full, muscles gradually unloosing and allowing him the comfort to begin moving. Miyaji coasted his hips to and fro, generating the slide of Hayama's cock slipping in and out of him and building up a rhythm. From this angle, it was different than he'd ever felt - gravity causing the hardened length to sink deeper into his depths; the press against his inner walls more stark and unforgiving.

"Fuck," the blond muttered to himself, slamming down against Kotarou with a searching force. Below, the other was audibly panting, large, dark eyes fixed adoringly on Miyaji as he towered above. Upon noticing it, the elder's cheeks flushed and he sent a glare southward, daring him to say anything about this.

"Senpai is so _sexy_..." Well, at least Miyaji didn't hold his breath. That didn't stop him from being annoyed, though.

"Yeah, yeah, pipe down already."

Rising up, he rapidly sank back down, twisting his hips slightly in the fall. Each motion rubbed him in the most delicious of ways, pressuring the right points exactly as quick and as roughly as he desired. Inside, he felt himself clenching increasingly snug around Hayama's dick, the friction serving only to urge him on. Yet another high was building, and he eagerly split himself in half to reach it.

Cursing, he changed tack, reaching to fondle one of the pinkened buds crowning his chest, making Kotarou stroke within him more slowly, tenderly. Miyaji could hardly breathe at this point - at any moment, he'd be gone, and the balance was incredibly fragile. He almost didn't want to keep moving, afraid of pushing too far that pain started to mix in with the pleasure.

The finish caught him off-guard.

Kotarou suddenly hammered upward, making several long thrusts before he was spilling inside him, filling his narrow expanse with a warm flood of seed. The influx rattled Miyaji's already tautened nerves - arching his back beautifully, he tensed and came down, cock slapping wetly against his abdomen as it overran with the stream of his own completion.

Now overly fatigued, the blond unhooked himself from their embrace, rolling to rest on one side of the mattress. With no further address to Hayama, he was prepared to welcome the realms of slumber. Beyond prepared, given that all this was an unexpectedly pleasant detour from his usual bedtime preferences. When the bed loudly creaked, he could feel the earlier annoyance he'd sported creeping back despite the calming effects of his release.

"...What are you up to now?" he mustered reluctantly, hazels peering open to shoot Kotarou a long-suffering stare.

He was soon ambushed by two arms wrapping around him and holding fast, by a nest of fluffy hair and pointed nose digging into the crook of his neck. Before he could mount any counter-attack, the brat had spooned against his chest seamlessly, snuggling up to Kiyoshi as if he were a body pillow. "'Night, Miyaji-san," came the yawned reply, "Thanks for my present."

Miyaji snorted, incredulous. Kids sure were deluded these days - as if he'd ever _offer_ something like this for a present. It was merely something he'd done because he'd had to, clearly.

"Just be quiet and let me sleep, brat. And your dick better not be poking my stomach in the morning, or I'll run you over."

"So it's okay if I start before Miyaji-senpai wakes up? That's really too kinky though... I don't know if I feel okay with doing it while you're asleep," Kotarou trailed off pensively, just his eyes leaving the safety of the blond's neck to stare him face on.

"ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING? I SWEAR TO GOD!" Miyaji began to bellow, the stupidity of the other's response provoking his anger back to full boil. "No! You don't touch me when I'm passed out, you little pervert, you let me _sleep_ , like any normal person would do! Now shut your trap, because you're only saying idiotic things, and it's time for _bed_!"


End file.
